“No, that probably doesn’t leave us much time,” the commander said. “What’s our role going to be in this?”

“We are going to begin by generating a strategic political response to the Romulans,” Harriman said. “The Federation president has already requested permission from the Romulan praetor for Enterpriseto travel to the site of the peace negotiations, so that we can meet with their highest-ranking ambassador. The Romulans mistakenly believe that the Federation has been developing a metaweapon so that we could launch a first strike against them. We’re going to prove to them that they’re wrong, that what they took to be a metaweapon was simply a new form of starship propulsion.”

Vaughn doubted whether even the best-planned political action would make a difference in this situation, but something even more troublesome occurred to him. “Captain,” he said, “wouldn’t the creation of an advanced propulsion system also provide Starfleet with a first-strike capability?”

Harriman looked at Vaughn. After a silent moment, he said, “It would.”

“So then convincing the Romulans that Starfleet was developing a new warp drive rather than a new weapon won’t change anything,” Vaughn concluded.

“No,” the captain agreed.

“Then what are we going to do?” Vaughn asked.

And Captain Harriman told them.

“You’re going to what?” Sulu asked, her voice rising with disbelief. She dropped her hands heavily onto her desk as she peered across her quarters at Captain Harriman.

“I’m going to deliver the hyperwarp drive specifications to the Romulans and the Klingons,” he repeated. His words made no more sense to her now than when he’d said them the first time.

“Captain,” Sulu said, standing up, “if either the Romulans or the Klingons are able to perfect hyperwarp drive before we do, then they’ll have what they’ve accused us of trying to develop: a first-strike potential.” She moved out from behind her desk and started across the cabin. “And unlike the Federation,” she said, “both the Romulans and the Klingons would be willing to commit a first strike.”

“That’s true,” Harriman said haltingly. “But I don’t believe that’s what’s going to happen.”

Sulu crossed the final distance to the captain and faced him from just a meter or so away. She waited a moment for him to offer up some justification for his last statement, but he said nothing more. Into the silence, Sulu said, bristling, “Begging the captain’s pardon, but…” She hesitated, wanting neither to overstep her bounds nor to address her commanding officer—and her friend—with such stridency.

“It’s all right, Demora,” Harriman said. “Go ahead. You can tell me what you’re thinking.”

“All right,” she said. “I think this is insane. We’ve been at the flash point of war for months, desperately trying to prepare ourselves for a long, hard battle, and now we’re going to provide our enemies with technical specs that could ultimately help them defeat us? It makes no sense.”

Harriman breathed in slowly, then out slowly, as though evaluating his response before offering it. “I know what you’re saying,” he told her. “But if we don’t do this, then war will come fast—a war we can’t win.”

Sulu held her arms out to either side in a gesture of frustration. “So we’re going to delay that by improving the offensive capabilities of the Romulans and Klingons even more?” She felt uncomfortable with her loud, incredulous tone, but she’d been unable to express her feelings otherwise. She dropped her hands back to her sides with a slap.

“I know that’s what it sounds like,” Harriman said. “But it is the opinion of Starfleet’s propulsion-design engineers that the Romulans and Klingons won’t be able to make hyperwarp work.”

“Those are the same engineers who just cost fifty-one members of Starfleet their lives,” Sulu blurted, regretting her words even before she’d finished speaking. Upset with the situation, and with herself for her volatile reactions, she turned and walked back across her cabin. She knew that nobody had intended for the crew of Universeto die, but still—“Captain,” she said, turning back around to face Harriman from the other side of her quarters, “why did Starfleet Command decide to develop and test hyperwarp now?With the political situation the way it’s been these past couple of years, it seems like such a risky idea.”

Again, Harriman inhaled and exhaled slowly before answering. Then he said, “It was my recommendation to proceed at this time.”

“Your—?” Sulu said, thunderstruck. The idea seemed so preposterous that her first thought was that the captain had never even had the time to be a part of such decision-making. But then she recalled all of the meetings he’d been asked to attend on Space Station KR-3 during the past few months.

She looked away from Harriman, trying to determine what to say, what to feel. Finally, all she could do was look back at him and ask, “Why, John?”

Harriman returned her gaze, but said nothing.

“You didn’t…Starfleet wasn’t tryingto develop a first-strike potential, was it?” she asked, her voice dropping low. The notion of Starfleet designing a technology for the purpose of launching an unprovoked attack against anybody seemed completely antithetical to everything for which the Federation stood.

Harriman continued to look at her, opening his mouth once, then again, without saying anything. He appeared to be struggling to find a response—which probably answered her question, Sulu thought. But then Harriman said, “Honestly, Demora, no. The goal of hyperwarp drive was never, for one second, to allow us the capability of striking the Romulans or Klingons first. Never.”

Sulu peered at the captain—at her friend—and knew that he had just told her the truth. She felt relieved and foolish. “I…I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right,” Harriman said, moving across the room over to where she stood by her desk. “I know that these are difficult times for all of us.”

Sulu gazed up at Harriman, and felt guilty not only for having questioned his motives, but also for forgetting how much he’d been through lately. His father, still critically injured, and still refusing to see him…“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I know you’re making the best choices that you possibly can.”

“I’m trying,” he said. “Believe me.”

“I do,” she said, but something else bothered her. She moved back around her desk and sat down there. “Do you know the nature of the technological leap that’s supposed to make hyperwarp possible?” she asked.

“Demora,” Harriman said, taking a seat across the desk from her, “I can’t talk about it.”

“That’s all right,” Sulu said. “Because I can. I was monitoring the Universeduring its test run. When their crew began the hyperwarp reaction, the Enterprise’s sensors detected a distinctive waveform. At first, I thought it must be emanating from another ship in the area, but I pinpointed the source as the Universeitself. There was no question.”

“I see,” Harriman said noncommittally.

“John, if the use of cloaking technology is at the heart of hyperwarp drive, and if we give the Romulans and Klingons the drive specifications, then isn’t it possible—isn’t it likely—that with their decades of experience in cloaking technology, they’ll be able to perfect hyperwarp before we do?” The possibility, clearly real, did more than concern her; it frightened her.

Harriman looked silently at her for a long time. Sulu waited, and as she did, she noticed something. Where over the past few days she had sensed great sadness in Harriman—for the crew of Universe,for the grief the Enterprisecrew felt, and for his injured father—she now saw something…less than that. Something less, coupled with a resolve that she did not entirely understand. When Harriman at last spoke, he said only, “I don’t think the Romulans or the Klingons will develop hyperwarp before we do.” He gave no reason for his opinion, something not like him. As the Enterprisebridge crew could so well attest, the captain often answered their questions even in the middle of a crisis. His silence now seemed unusual, and she suddenly got the feeling that there was something that he was not telling her. But Sulu had been Harriman’s executive officer for ten years now, and she’d served with him for eight years prior to that, and in all of that time, he’d never given her a reason to mistrust him.